


His Better Angels

by emansil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry, Bondage and Discipline, Bottom Harry, Come Sharing, D/s, Dom Malfoy, Hung Neville, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Bottom Draco, Implied bottom Neville, Just because he wants to make Harry happy dom Neville, M/M, Magical Bondage, Multi, Praise Kink, Sub Harry, Switching, Threesome - M/M/M, arse licking, arseplay, cock-slut Harry, face fucking, fucked out, genuine affection for each other, job stressed Harry, post sex rimming, sex with active plants, snuggling and cuddling on sofa, tendril sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-18 19:41:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18125627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emansil/pseuds/emansil
Summary: He trusted these two men more than he’d ever trusted anyone, maybe even more that Ron and Hermione. Them, he had trusted with his life, Draco and Neville—his better angels-- he trusted with everything that made him who he was, his very soul.





	His Better Angels

**Author's Note:**

> thanks as always to wwmrsweasleydo for her beta assistance. I’m afraid to say I fiddled with it quite a bit after she returned it. Any remaining mistakes are completely my own. While I’m not sure if this is the way these sorts of scenes normally play out—it is what my mind came up with. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. There is no Tarrytown, just a place I made up, and liked the sound of…so I left it remaining. (No plants were harmed in the writing of this fic. :) ) A huge thanks to the mods for running this fest again this year, it is always the best!

Harry slammed the door behind him, unable to contain the rage that threatened to boil over. It didn’t help. Neither had the walk—more stomping than walking—through the streets of London. He’d thought the walk would allow him time to restore his balance and resolve the emotion that was suffocating him. It hadn’t. 

Tension and fury moved through him, taking up residence. _Fuck_ , but he needed time in the room. Only time with his boys would set him right. 

How had he allowed this to happen? And he was at fault-- no matter what the others had said. Even Dawlish—Harry snarled audibly at the memory of him telling Harry that he, not Harry, had been the one responsible. 

The truth was, both had been to blame. Dawlish had wanted to wait until more Aurors were available for the raid. Harry knowing the danger the family was in had pushed to go immediately. He and his team could handle it, whatever they found. They just needed to get the family to safety.

Harry had a thing about saving people, while Dawlish’s had been more about keeping his people safe from harm. There was a world of difference in the two points of views. They had both been right, and also wrong, as it turned out, to the detriment of everything. 

Draco entered the room at Harry’s arrival, a bright smile on his face. “Harry, did you walk all the way? Here, let me take your—“

He stopped. One look at Harry’s face and Draco seemed to see right through to Harry’s soul. Draco always seemed to know what Harry needed. 

“I see,” Draco said. “Do you need a session?” 

_Yes, oh yes. Please_ , Harry begged silently. He needed one like he’d only ever needed one in the worst of times. It was not his place to ask: he could not be that forward. Only Draco could determine what Harry needed. 

Relief stuttered out of Harry. His boys would take care of him. They always knew what Harry needed, even when Harry himself hadn’t a clue.

“Potter,” Malfoy’s voice clipped and short, as if guillotined. “Excuse me, but were you raised in some type of stable? You are aware that others reside here with you, ones who may not appreciate such rude behaviour. Consideration for their feelings might be acknowledged.”

“Hang your robe up, and properly too, don’t drop it on the damn chair. Then remove your tie, belt and boots. 

Harry did as instructed, but each removal brought memories to his mind of what he’d just witnessed. The image of the little girl, tied to the bed with the monsters’ ties, unable to escape as they had cast spell after spell at her. Her mum secured in place not only by their belts, but also frozen by a body bind spell, forced to watch as they’d tortured her child, followed by what had to be, as judged by the number of bruises, repeated kicks to her young and fragile body with heavy steel toed boots. _God! No!_

Tears slid from beneath his closed lids. 

“Are you waiting for an engraved invitation, Potter? You know the drill. We’ve wasted too much time. Finish disrobing. Choose your implements, and wait by the table in the proper stance.” Draco spoke curtly, as if having to speak to Harry at all was beneath him. 

Draco soon followed Harry into the playroom, allowing Harry just enough time to have made his choices for today’s session. Naked, his head bowed and on his knees, Harry waited. Entering the room had brought Harry a sense of calmness to fight his wrath, his frustration, and his despair. This was their sacred place; where all of that was left behind. 

Draco released a small sound of surprise as he walked toward Harry. “That’s an interesting choice you’ve made for today,” followed by a snort of even greater surprise at his second choice. “Very good, I imagine we’ll be needing Mr Longbottom at some point. My control is not as accurate as his. You’re developing quite a fondness for these. What is it, three times in a row now?”

“Are we going by time today or using a safe word?” Draco asked as he padded around Harry examining him from all sides. Even on his knees and head bowed Harry could feel Draco’s desire for him. It made him hot and hard, and more of the tension evaporated.

“Neville,” Draco called. “Come in here. Harry might have need of you… later.” He added an indication that he, Draco would take care of Harry’s immediate needs. Neville therefore was there for what was needed after. 

Neville’s surprised gasp of laughter, and his whispered, “Ah, I see you’ve chosen this again”, at Harry’s second option for his session sent warmth through Harry. Neville whispered a soft “I’ll be right outside when you need me,” in Harry’s ear. While Draco continued to move around the table guaranteeing that all was ready. 

“Time.” Harry answered Draco’s earlier question. “I’m afraid I’ll use the safe word too soon or perhaps not soon enough.” _Self-harm even when it’s applied by another, is never a good thing_. Harry thought the last, but never said. These times in the playroom allowed him to exorcise his demons wordlessly. 

“Will twenty minutes be enough?” 

“I leave that to you,” he replied and chanced looking up at his Dom, his lover and one of two people he trusted with his deepest, darkest secrets, and yet still loved him in spite them. 

Malfoy, the Dom was Malfoy-- never Draco, looked steadily at him. “Very well, we’ll start with twenty and go from there. Please get onto the table. Face down, I think would be best.” 

Harry stood and climbed onto the table. Face down, as requested, and tucked into the space provided. Harry could see nothing but the floor below him and the occasional shadows as Malfoy circled. 

The room darkened and the scent of candles burning drifted through the air. A rustle of material softly landing on the floor told him that Malfoy had removed his jumper, leaving him clad in only his tank top and loose joggers, and his bare feet. Malfoy had never seen the need to dress in the typical Dom regalia, of thick leather and masks. His role as a Dom was about control, not about how he dressed. 

Harry let himself go. Relaxed into the physical and emotional freedom these scenes allowed him. “

 _Incarcerous_ ” Malfoy spoke into the silence. Immediately the soft and silken ripple of the spell entwined around Harry’s wrist. Each secured by an individual cord. Another one then secured his head, immobilizing it, in its place. 

The ropes criss-crossed his back, then passed under the table. They came up on each side, two at Harry’s sharp bones at Harry’s hips, and two more just below his shoulders. The separate strands of the ropes, soft and sensuous as silk or velvet, rested against his bare skin. The perfect image of Draco’s forearms, his corded muscles as he moved his wand through the spells, blossomed in Harry’s mind. The Dark Mark visible but no longer seen. Draco’s exquisite control of his wrist as he held the wand in his hand each swish and flick perfectly executed.

That wouldn’t last long though, Harry knew. When lashed across the skin Incarcerous Ropes stung like bloody hell. Only in the hands of a competent Dom, were they of any use. Malfoy’s competence as a Dom was unprecedented. 

A whispered word from Malfoy, and an outrage of pain fell across Harry’s back. Sharp and stinging. Followed almost immediately by a silken caress as the aftermath of the _incarcerous_ spell slid across his skin. Not yet. The relief was too soon. He needed to feel the pain, needed the escape it would bring. “No,” Harry whispered from inside the hollow, confident that he would be heard. 

“Very well.” Fingertips grazed softly against the swell of Harry’s arse. He always understood what Harry wanted even without words. Harry was in safe hands. He knew. How Draco kept the Draco separate from the Malfoy, Harry never understood. 

Closing his eyes, Harry again lost himself in the sensation of the ropes lashing across his body, the upper, middle and lower back, his arse, along his sides and the very tops of his thighs. Each swipe of the ropes was sharper, the sting more biting than the one before. Malfoy’s intense concentration as he orchestrated the four strands, each being asked to perform a different task, and the resulting drops of sweat along Malfoys temples, perhaps dotting his brow, were all as clear to Harry as the tiled floor below him. 

Harry’s cock hardened and thickened with each sting of the ropes. His need for friction, of any kind, grew along with it. Harry tried to rub against the padded table below him, but his current position left him little mobility. The knowledge of what was yet to come had Harry trying his best to hump the table, while any movement at all, was still an option. 

“Neville,” Draco’s voice just above a whisper, “please join us. He needs you.” Neville, Harry knew, would be hovering just outside the room. Gentle soul that he was he never enjoyed this part of the sessions. 

“Harry.” His back and arse a burning scream of pain, he barely heard Draco through the haze. “That’s it. It’s been twenty minutes. Will that be sufficient?” 

His face soaked with tears of pain and his throat raw from screaming out his anger, sorrow and rage—so much anger, but at last Harry felt cleansed. His cock hard and throbbing, he craved sexual release, but not just yet. That would have to wait until Neville’s masterful control of Harry’s second choice for today’s schooling, as well Harry’s obedience to Malfoy’s commands. 

Harry had been lovers with each of them, Draco and Neville, separately, for months. Each providing him something no one else ever had or could. One day, he’d arrived at the brilliant conclusion that they, Draco and Neville, would be amazing together. 

Harry had spent the next twenty-four hours watching while Draco and Neville explored one another. Wanking himself raw at Draco’s reaction to Neville’s tongue deep inside him. Neville’s lips puckered, sucking as he’d eaten out Draco’s arse. Until sobbing and begging, Draco had pleaded for Neville to, “Please fuck me.” 

Watched as Draco had climbed on top of Nev and ridden his tree trunk of a cock, until Draco’s come had decorated Neville’s chest, neck and parts of his chin. Neville then lifting him up and holding him over his face as he’d thrust his tongue into Draco, lapping up every drop of come and lube as it leaked from Draco’s red and tender rim. Draco gripping the headboard, his face flushed red, his bottom lip red and swollen from his biting it to keep from screaming out, as Neville’s tongued lapped in to him. 

The following day, the three of them, had gone shopping for a flat that met all their needs. Unable to find the perfect place Draco had casually mentioned that between the three of them, they could surely enhance # 12 Grimmauld Place enough to fit their exact needs.

A week later, Draco and Neville had moved in with Harry. He had never known such peace or happiness or sexual pleasure. Their friends learned the hard way to check before they flooed in for a visit. They were just as likely as not to find any combination of the three of them in lewd and lascivious activities. 

Through the welcoming blur of the constant, yet varying barrage of blows across his back and thighs, followed by the soothing feel of the silken texture of the incarcerous ropes, Harry heard Neville entering the room. Even if he hadn’t heard him, he would have recognised him by his scent. Neville smelled of the sweat of hard work, of dirt and soil, of green plants, of herbs and flowers. 

The scent of Neville after working in the garden rapidly became Harry’s favourite aphrodisiac. Eventually Neville had learned to come as he was, if Harry was going to be present. Growing even more aroused just from the earthiness of his lover, Harry’s precome created a sticky mess on the material below him. 

The magical ropes binding Harry’s ankles and legs to the table slowly fell away. In their place he began to feel the tickle of the Devil’s Snare as it gradually curled around his feet and ankles, followed by an almost unbearable sensation as the tendrils crawled up his calves and knees. Currently loose and steady as it moved across his skin, they felt as a soothing caress on his skin. He remained as still as possible, knowing the slightest movement would have them drawing up and tightening, cutting into him and intensifying his agony.

Breathing evenly, Harry fought to quiet his mind. Still, the anticipation built in him. Malfoy may be a Master at the more conventional forms of bondage and discipline, but no one could top Neville in the control of Devil’s Snare. 

Though Neville’s participation had been requested, Draco, as it happened, did not believe Harry’s discipline had been proficient. Through his stillness, Harry heard him. “Harry, your tension and anxiety is still radiating from you. We are not yet done yet. More time or do you want to use the safe word this time?” ” 

Malfoy, Harry knew, was right. Malfoy was always right when it came to the amount of discipline Harry needed. He acquiesced. “Time,” knowing he was in no condition to make a decision of this magnitude he added, “You decide. You know best. I trust you.” And he did, explicitly. He trusted these two men more than he’d ever trusted anyone, maybe even more that Ron and Hermione. Them, he had trusted with his life. Draco and Neville—his better angels-- he trusted with his very soul. 

“Thank you, Harry,” Draco answered. In that simple response Harry knew the depth of Draco’s joy at Harry’s confidence in him. 

The ends of the ropes once again let loose a cascade of lashes and strikes as they rained down and across his back and arse, his shoulders and upper back. Harry jerked, crying out at the unexpected intensity of the agony inflicted on him. As the blows continued, the despair grew ever stronger, and yet at the same time, also more freeing. Until, his emotions at last emancipated, Harry quietly began to weep. 

The Devil’s Snare continued up his thighs entwining around him, giving strength to his thighs, they began to draw his knees up under him. Ones that bound his ankles to the table fell away. His knees pulled towards him and bending, forcing Harry onto his hands and knees, the space between his knees widening. As the moveable plant reached his bum, it threaded its way around his waist and through his cleft, separating each side and pulling them apart. The hollow his face rested in ascending until it, too, was on the same level as the table. 

Tears and snot of pain, and strong emotional release ran down Harry’s face. At last he was free, and at peace. He was going to be okay. Once again, his boys had taken care of him. 

His legs and hips now secured the table; the Incarcerous Ropes fell away, leaving his shoulders and upper body free to move as he willed. Harry adjusted his back and shoulder, trusting Neville had complete control of the Devil’s snare. Malfoy’s time had reached an end. Neville’s time had arrived.

The plant’s special capabilities soon had the cheeks of Harry’s arse pulled apart, opening him to inspection or whatever else Neville could imagine. For being as decent and gentle minded as he was, Neville Longbottom was one of the kinkiest and most imaginative blokes Harry had ever known. 

His knees pulled under him and separated wide by the Devil’s Snare, Harry shivered-- albeit very lightly-- in exquisite anticipation. Any more movement and the Snare would tighten to an unbearable level. Even the brief shiver he had given into had caused a loose tendril to move rapidly up his back wrapping around his chest and tightening to where Harry felt he could barely breathe.

“Harry. Stop,” Draco said quietly, while Neville quickly whispered another brief spell, and the wayward tendril fell back and returned. Not where it had been before. No, but to a place that would create even more difficulty in Harry remaining still. .

A gentle barely there feeling whispered across his skin as tendrils moved down his sides, across and down his stomach. They slithered over his cock, loose enough to feel as if a well lubed hand was gliding over him. Not so snug for him to feel the undeniable need to fuck into it, but enough that his cock thickened in response to the pressure of movement against it. 

The pressure against his cock was exquisite. Biting his lower lip Harry managed to remain silent. Remaining still was the greater challenge. 

Draco did not speak this time, only laid a restraining hand on Harry’s shoulder.

Harry stilled, again centering his mind, willing himself to enter that state where he could take what Neville was about to send him, remaining still and calm throughout. His body able to enjoy the pleasure it was receiving.

Another tendril soon joined the first, then a third as well. Wrapped and twisted around his cock, each of them sliding up and down and over this cock. The ends of one or two or all three-- he wasn’t sure—coiled around the head pulling it down exposing his glans and caressing softly against the moisture that gathered there. The tendrils’ touch, soft as the pad of a thumb, moving together they spread the slickness down his prick. The process repeated, only this time quicker and tighter, leaving behind the feel of a most incredible hand job, without being touched by human hands. The pleasure was indescribable. 

Harry shuddered out another calming breath. Draco leaned over him. “That’s right, Harry. You’re doing so good. So very good. Such a good boy. Aren’t you, Harry?” 

Warmth of pride and happiness at Draco’s praise curled inside of Harry. Making his boys happy, and doing what they asked of him, always made him so happy. His arousal grew in response. 

The tendrils continued manipulating Harry’s arousal with no hint of release or stopping, when an assault of another kind began on Harry. The vines that were holding his arsehole opened and exposed now began to creep down his crease and slither towards his hole. Twisting and turning until the very tips gently kissed at his rim. At each pass the tendrils seem to thicken and grow. 

Neville’s wand movements and whispered words of a spell released a gentle breeze into the air. Tension and exhaustion surrounded Neville’s voice. This was difficult and impossible magic and Neville was doing it for him, for Harry. Neville loved him and would do anything to make Harry happy and healthy. 

It was so simple, yet so impossible to find. Harry’s heart swelled with joy and desire. His need for Neville’s cock had Harry’s arse clenching in lust and anticipation. 

A slick slippery substance dripped from Harry’s anus. Neville’s previous spell must have included a lubricant spell. The plants took an immediate interest in the opportunity presented. Entering his opening, they strengthened, growing in size, as they moved deeper into Harry. The Devil’s Snare behaving in a way completely foreign to Harry’s understanding of it, he marveled at Neville’s control of it. The plant began to grown in size to where it felt as if Neville’s large and calloused fingers were moving inside Harry. 

Harry shifted slightly, the feeling of the plant growing in him, and _Ah fuck,_ there were even more now. The ones still manipulating his prick now moved faster and faster. Fuck, it was so hard to stay still. Merlin but he loved the feel of things in him. It didn’t matter what, he loved them all. 

Draco was again talking to him. Harry focused his attention, on what he was saying. Praising him for what a good boy he was. How he was so good, so amazing to take it in his arse like he was. The plant that fucked into him grew ever longer, ever larger as it prepped him to take Neville’s cock in him. “You need your mouth filled as well, don’t you? You need my cock fucking your mouth, as well. One cock is never enough for you is it?” Harry couldn’t stop the moan that escaped at those words. 

Placing his finger under Harry’s chin, Draco lifted Harry’s head and rubbed his prick across Harry’s face. His foreskin pulled back, his precome smeared across Harry’s lips. He could smell it, all but taste it. Harry looked up, silently begging. Draco had been right, Harry needed a cock in his mouth, the way he needed his arse filled. Now it was being occupied by a plant, but soon, oh gods, soon it would be Neville’s cock fucking into him. 

Draco smirked at him, and then pushed his cock into Harry’s mouth, feeding it to him one inch at a time. The weight and the taste of it rested heavily against Harry’s tongue. Draco took his time allowing Harry the chance to run his tongue around the head, licking and sucking and tasting. Harry tongued at the slit, pressing the tip into it. 

Draco pushed in further, all the way in until his prick filled Harry’s mouth and throat. Until Harry’s gag reflex reached its very limit, leaving Harry all but choking on Draco’s prick, and wanting even more. 

“Oh god, Potter. Fuck, you take my cock so well. You really are such a good boy for us. Such an excellent slut you are, gagging on my cock while there’s a bloody magical plant crawling in, and up your bunghole. Not even a person or an animal, but a plant, a fucking plant! But look at you. Merlin, you love it, don’t you? You should see what Nev has fucking inside of you.” 

Harry loved being their “good boy”, loved being their slut. He expected it probably came from never having enough praise as a child. Either way, it made him want to try even harder to deserve their praise. They did so much for him; he needed to do this for them. 

Beside himself with pleasure, but he needed more. He needed Neville; needed Neville’s cock in him. Unmindful of the possible consequences Harry tore his mouth from Draco’s cock. 

“Neville,” Harry croaked, his throat, rough and raw and scratchy from having a prick pressed against the back of it. The Devil’s Snare immediately loosened and fell away just as the Incarcerous Ropes had, leaving Harry free and unbound, and wanting. 

Neville’s hands gripped Harry’s hips. Hard enough to bruise, but Draco could take care of that if needed. Generally, Harry kept his bruises and markings as long as he could, reminding himself of when and how he’d obtained them. The head of Neville’s prick nudged at Harry’s opening. One long and steady advance and the length and girth of Neville’s prick slid all the way in, his balls resting against Harry’s arse. Harry’s breath hitched at the burn and stretch across his rim. Harry took in another deep breath, relaxing his entrance, giving him time to adjust. Even with the previous lubricant spell and with the double fucking of two or more thick and stiff plants Harry had received, Neville’s cock was still a lot to take on.

Neville’s momentum stilled while he massaged Harry’s lower back with his calloused hands and giving Harry the extra time he needed. Harry soon began to move his hips back and forth, fucking himself, intermittently, at first, on Neville’s prick. _Fuck, it felt so good_ Neville’s prick was amazing. Long and thick and Neville was so fucking talented when it came to knowing how to use it. Short snapping thrusts in and out, then long slow withdrawing where only the very tip of the head remained in Harry, only to press back in again. Changing the tempo and angle, he left Harry constantly hanging on the edge. 

His fingers knuckled in the covered padding beneath him, Harry hung on, pressing back against Neville’s cock, catching the rhythm when he could. Other times, just barely hanging on, his arse a receptacle for the pounding Neville was giving it. Heat and lust built inside Harry. Deep and desperate, reaching for that crescendo that would send him trembling over the edge 

Neville leaned over Harry’s back, sucking and nipping and biting at Harry’s shoulders, neck and upper back. His mouth pressed against Harry’s, whispering how much he loved having his cock in Harry. How he loved seeing Harry’s pucker, red and smeared with lube stretched around his cock. How his cock looked so perfect, fucking in and out of Harry’s dirty arsehole, still covered with soil and green juices from the plants that had just been inside him. 

Neville was not usually one for words, but the ones he said now and his actions told Harry he agreed with Draco. Harry was their slut and Neville loved how Harry was always so eager to take his cock. He loved Harry, full stop. Wanted to give Harry whatever he needed to help him work through those times that led Harry to the despair he frequently fell into. 

Draco’s thrusting into Harry’s mouth became ever more erratic. Burrowing his nose in the blond curls at the base of Draco’s prick, Harry took Draco in even deeper. Draco’s fingers carded through Harry’s hair, his grip tightening the closer his orgasm got. Harry’s own orgasm held at bay by the final strand of Incarcerous ropes, Draco had left on him. 

Red hot bliss surrounded Harry from both ends. His nerve ending shot through with such lust and love he thought he’d come undone.

“Fuck, Harry. I’m… Oh gods, Harry. I’m coming,” Draco stammered. The words barely formed and released into the air when Harry felt the torrent of Draco’s come, hot, bitter and slightly salty flood his throat. Swallowing rapidly, careful not to choke, he took it all in. Sucking and licking, Harry was desperate to take in every drop, until it became too much for Draco. He pushed Harry away. 

Neville’s prick still hitting his prostate on almost every stroke, Harry lifting his head just as Draco lowered his. Draco's tongue filling Harry’s mouth, he searched out any remaining taste of himself on Harry’s tongue. Harry was happy to share with Draco what he’d just received. 

“Come on mates, don’t be stingy. Share with me,” Neville begged from Harry’s shoulder. He turned and slipped his tongue inside Neville’s mouth, Neville sucking at it greedily. 

Neville pulled away at last. Harry hung his head, his concentration focused on the incredible feeling of Neville’s thick prick fucking in and out of his arse. Above him, he felt more than heard Draco and Neville’s own ardent kiss. Each of them sharing the love and affection they had for each other, and in turn, that they shared for Harry.

Harry’s own orgasm approached faster and faster. It roiled in his gut, approaching like a steam engine out of control, barreling down the track. If Draco did not release the final strand of Incarcerous from around the base at Harry’s prick, Harry wasn’t sure he could take it. He needed to come so bad.

Draco’s fingers curled around his cock. The ropes fell a way. Harry sighed with relief. Draco‘s grip strong and confidant, his strokes hard and rough. Draco’s pull on his cock drove Harry ever closer to the edge. Words of love, words of encouragement, whispered above and behind him, too far away, given how close to the edge he was, to understand the words. It didn’t matter; he knew the meaning behind them. Knew that here in this place, he was safe, he was protected. He was loved. 

 

Neville changed the angle of his thrust so that each one of them stroked directly against Harry’s prostate. Spikes of pleasure hot and intense, heat and love, lust and desire and happiness awakened in Harry. A final thrust by Neville, and one last pull on his cock from Draco and a definitive release of his emotions, Harry came in a rush, his orgasm roaring through him like a tidal wave. At last all his anger, his rage and his frustrations were at an end. In their place was left joy and happiness and pure sexual contentment.

Tears of joy and release erupted out of him. He sobbed with complete abandon. 

Draco pulled him unto his arms, peppering him with kisses, telling how much he was loved. How special Harry was, how good and brave and decent a man Harry was. Neville pulled out, lying Harry on his stomach, Neville knelt behind him, showing Harry in his own way, how much he loved him. Cleaning Harry out with his tongue, he chased down every drop of come and green tinted lube as they ran down Harry’s anus. 

Once finished, he stood and said, “Harry, put your arms around me. I’ll carry you to the sofa. Okay.” Carrying Harry in his arms he sat down gingerly on the sofa, Draco sitting down next to them. Together they arranged Harry in their laps, snuggled up against Draco’s chest, his legs curled over Neville’s lap. 

Side by side, close enough to exchange kisses of the own, Draco and Neville held Harry. Together they gently rocked him as his tears slowly decreased. As they did, they turned to each other and kissed, finding passion and enjoyment in togetherness with the other.

Harry’s eyes grew heavy and his heart felt lighter than it had in days. 

“What about dinner, are you hungry?” Neville asked in a low whisper, careful to not wake Harry if he was sleeping. Harry sighed contentedly.

“Not just yet. We’ll sit with our boy here for a while. He needs us. Dinner can wait.” Draco said kissing the top of Harry’s head, causing Harry to snuggle in ever closer.

“Hey Nev,” Draco added. “You know how Harry prefers you to be all earthy and smelling like a day labourer?” he paused for a second or so, then went on. “Well, I don’t. I’m itching to climb on that horse-cock of yours and ride it all the way to Tarrytown. Do you think you could manage a shower before I do?” 

Neville chuckled above Harry’s head. “Yeah, I think I can do that. I’m beginning to find myself a bit offensive.” Silently the three of them sat together, the quietness broken occasionally by the soft moans and whispers of the others.

Hearing that Neville was soon going to smell clean and fresh and nice, but no longer musky and earthy, Harry made a firm decision. He sat up unexpectedly, at least to the others, and flipped his position. He placed his face firmly against Neville’s broad and firm chest, and breathed in deeply, his cock awakening and stirring to attention. Wriggling around a bit he brought his cock into direct contact with Neville’s. Neville moaned softly and thrust just the lightest bit towards Harry, even as his lips were devouring Draco’s mouth at the same time. 

As his cock stirred to life, Harry mused reflectively over the possibility of Neville letting Harry fuck him, while Draco was riding Neville’s cock. Like all of them, Neville loved to bottom as much as he loved to top. Harry bet he would be up for it. But what was all that riding Neville’s cock to Tarrytown? It was true; Neville truly did have a cock built like a horse, but what was Tarrytown and why couldn’t you just Apparate there? 

With that thought muddling his brain, he slipped gently into sleep, safe in the arms of his better angels.

The end


End file.
